One and Only
by The Nutty One
Summary: Oliver had his reasons for wanting to turn Michael. Despite everything Michael says, he was a willing participant. But it went wrong, horribly wrong. And now they have to live with that. One Shot! Slash! Michael/Oliver! First of its kind! PWP No Flames!


Why did Oliver want to turn Michael? What happened while the Glass house gang slept? First pairing of Oliver/Michael!

One and Only

How had everything gone so wrong? Michael knew he was taking a risk when he allowed Oliver to turn him. But it was the only way they could live together, forever. He had no one in his life; his parents had skipped town and he hardly had any contact with them. Oliver didn't have anyone either. It was just the two of them.

It was like this every week. Sometimes Oliver would see him twice a week, or sometimes only once. It didn't matter how many times he stopped by; Michael was grateful. Being trapped inside a house day in day out really did mess with one's mind. He hated it. He couldn't even watch the sun rise as a human. It was always a time of horror and pain.

Sighing, Michael picked up his guitar. It felt good in his hands, it was like it belonged there. Shane, Eve and Claire had grown used to the desolate music of his guitar and none of them would come to check up on him. He was on his own, always. It was better that way. He didn't want to burden then with his ghostliness.

Ghostliness. He laughed humourlessly. It was a sick joke of a life. How could he be living when he was buried alive? Michael would watch as Shane, Eve and Claire walked out of the house, into the sunlight or asked where he was. He could never tell them. If he did they would no doubt leave him, and he would be alone again. Whenever Shane would blow his top and demand to know where he was, Michael could never stop the pang of hurt that went through him.

If only they knew. But they could never find out.

His hands flew over the strings on the guitar. This was his home. The only thing he had when Oliver wasn't there with him. The music surrounded him. It filled the empty silence in the house. It filled the empty ache in his heart.

Opposite him he watched the minutes trickle by on the alarm clock. It was another sick, twisted thing in his life. The clock counted down the seconds until he died again, only to be reborn the next day. It was like a fucked up phoenix.

But there was something good about that clock as well. It counted down Michael's human minutes, but it also counted down the minutes until Oliver arrived. He smiled at the thought. Even though the turning had gone horribly wrong Oliver still cared about him.

Michael could still remember the look on Oliver's face as he watched his mate's life fade from his eyes. He could still see his own blood coating Oliver's teeth. He could still feel the harsh presses on his chest when Oliver had attempted to bring him back. He could still taste the acidic taste of Oliver's blood when he had been forced to drink it. But it was all too late.

He had died in this room; in this house. The place he was now stuck forever.

Michael watched as the clocks numbers changed once more. He still had a while until sun rise. How long exactly he didn't know. But it was enough time.

There was a knocking at the door. It was light and barely audible but Michael heard it. Being part dead did have its perks. His heart soared at the thought of a visitor. He knew it could only be one person. No one in their right mind would be out this late. Never mind come and knock on their door. It just didn't happen.

With gentle hands Michael placed the guitar back in its case. Flipping the caches, he slid it under the kitchen table. He knew what he wanted, and if it went his way – which it hopefully would – he didn't want the guitar to suffer. Despite what he was feeling, Michael took his time walking down the hallway. He knew that Oliver hated waiting. But he also knew that Oliver loved it when he played games with him.

It was a win win situation.

Michael descended the steps slowly, well aware that Oliver could see him through the glass. He'd dressed especially for the occasion. A pair of well-fitting jeans (he knew his ass looked great in them, he'd spotted Eve and Claire looking) and a black shirt that clung to all the right places. When Shane had asked who the lucky girl – if only he knew- was, Michael had said it was for a music gig that he had tonight. Of course it was all lies.

He opened the door slowly. It was Oliver. There was no surprise there. But Michael got the satisfaction of seeing Oliver's eyes widen when he saw him. It was hard to surprise a vampire, so Michael knew he must look good. He blushed slightly and dipped his head allowing his blonde hair to fall over his eyes.

Oliver's eyes never left Michael's. Dark agate coloured eyes locked onto sapphire blue. Michael saw Oliver lick his lips and he saw a flash of white: Oliver's fangs.

"You came," said Michael as he looked up into Oliver's eyes. "I didn't think you'd come today." It started like this most nights. Michael would hope Oliver would visit, but he would still be surprised when he did. He still couldn't think why Oliver was sticking by him. He could have any other guy on the planet. Instead he choose Michael; a boy trapped in a house, not even human or vampire; someplace in between. He was trapped between both worlds.

"Why wouldn't I?"

"Because…because I'm me. I'm not even alive or dead. I'm just…here."

"If you weren't here then I wouldn't be here would I? Now, don't you think it's rude to leave a guest waiting on the porch?" Oliver joked, his eyes alight. This was the time he looked forward to the most. After the bad turning, Oliver had thought that their relationship would have ended. But it hadn't. It had brought them closer together.

Michael shook his head slowly. "Sorry, I forgot."

It amazed Oliver that even after all they had gone through; Michael still managed to come across as innocent. He loved corrupting that innocence: the thought of having Michael begging for more, panting and withering beneath him.

And then there was his blood. His glorious blood that tasted even better since he had died. It sang in his veins. Every time Michael blushed Oliver had to restrain himself from sinking his fangs into the pale column of his neck. Michael's blood, nothing compared to it. It was like water to a parched man. It refreshed him, made him feel human despite everything.

And it brought them together.

When Michael moved out of the way, Oliver stepped over the threshold. Michael motioned silently for him to follow. As Michael moved, he made sure to sway his hips slightly. Not too much, but a little more than usual. A soft growl came from Oliver and he knew it had done the trick.

They had only just made it to the living room when Oliver attacked Michael's lips. Oliver flattened Michael against the nearest convenient wall, their kiss never breaking. As Michael's back hit the wall a dull thud rang through the house. He didn't care though. Let the others see. He was sick of hiding who he was.

Their tongue's battled for dominance but Michael soon relented. He felt Oliver's icy tongue plunder his mouth and his fangs scraped Michael's lips. He panted heavily against the wall and his head swam with pleasure. His hands clutched helplessly at Oliver's curly hair. This was what he wanted. What he was waiting for. What he needed.

Oliver pulled away, allowing Michael to catch his breath, but his mouth never left Michael's hot, fevered skin. "Take it off…" Michael panted as he began to tug at Oliver's shirt. He hadn't noticed what Oliver was wearing beforehand. Oliver always looked good no matter what. The vampire could where a sack and still look good.

Complying with Michael's wish, Oliver quickly shed his shirt with skilful fingers. He wasn't so careful with Michael's. There was a loud tearing noise and moments later two pieces of black cloth floated the floor. Cold fingers ran over Michael's exposed chest. They played with his nipples until they hardened into tight little buds.

Michael's breathing hitched as Oliver began to lick the junction between his neck and shoulder. Fangs scraped over his skin, nipping but never penetrating. This was something new. Oliver always drank from his neck without fail. Whatever Oliver was going to do, Michael wasn't going to object to. Oliver knew exactly what he liked and how he liked it.

Oliver's tongue began to work its way down Michael's body, leaving a wet trail across Michael's chest. Quick fingers unzipped Michael's jeans and they were around his ankles in seconds. Freezing fingers traced circled over his creamy thighs, enticing moans and gasps from Michael. Then Oliver took Michael's leaking cock into his mouth.

His hands fisted Oliver's hair. Feeling the coldness engulf him, Michael threw his head back in pleasure. Bucking into Oliver's mouth, he felt his till for a fraction of a second before he hollowed his cheeks. Risking a glance at the other, Michael's eyes locked onto Oliver's dark midnight eyes. Oliver hollowed his cheeks again, making Michael moan with pleasure.

"Yeah, that's it…harder…please, more…" he gasped. Michael could feel the pleasure running through his body. Every nerve seemed alive with electricity and even the slightest touch of cold fingers could set him off. Again he bucked into Oliver's waiting mouth.

Sensing Michael's oncoming orgasm, Oliver released his weeping cock from his mouth and sank his fang's into Michael's thigh. Above him Michael groaned lowly, the familiar sting turning him on even more. The pull of his blood was sending his vision hazy and pleasure rocked through his body. A string of curses left his mouth as Michael came.

Oliver stood slowly, his lips covered with Michael's blood. Capturing him in a kiss, Michael could taste his own blood on Oliver's tongue. It was erotic and dangerous and adrenaline ran through his veins. Oliver didn't try to stop him as he stepped out of his jeans and pulled Oliver's own down.

With a coy smile and knowing eyes, Michael wrapped his legs around Oliver's waist. Oliver pressed Michael against the wall, steadying him and he brought two fingers to Michael's mouth. "Suck on them," he commanded.

Michael opened his mouth silently, and a shy pink tongue peaked out between parted lips. He sucked the fingers into his mouth and treating them all like a mini cock, his tongue danced over the fingers, coating them in strings of saliva. Oliver's eyes were clouded with lust as Michael continued to suck on his fingers, his own eyes hooded and content.

Michael released the fingers from his mouth. Too quick for his to see, Oliver's fingers had disappeared underneath Michael. One finger teased his softly, pushing in, only to pull back out quickly. Soon enough, another finger joined it. Michael rocked against Oliver as he wanted release once more. Unlike Oliver, he didn't like being teased. It seemed pointless and it only frustrated him.

He moaned against Oliver and a sharp pain went through his thigh from his earlier bite. At the stab of pain, Michael gasped in pleasure. He'd always been a secret fan of pain. Hearing Michael's gasp, Oliver took advantage of the situation. His mouth claimed Michael's in an effort to distract him.

But Michael didn't need distracting as two fingers slipped into him. He wanted this. He wanted to feel everything, and more, that Oliver could give to him. The two fingers hit his sweet spot and the contrast between the freezing temperatures and his own body heat were sending Michael towards an early orgasm.

"Please…more…Oliver!" Michael groaned as another finger slipped inside him. Oliver looked down on him, his eyes filled with love and lust. His fangs had retreated and he smiled at him. He almost seemed human. "Please," begged Michael as he attempted to impale himself on Oliver's fingers. "I need more…I need you…I need you…"

"Tell me what you want," Oliver asked, earning a glare from Michael.

"You…know…"

"No, I don't" He teased, stilling his fingers.

Michael glared at him. "You bastard!"

Oliver shook his head and smirked. "Why are you thinking of my mother and father now? If you must know, they were happily married when I was born."

"Just fuck me!" Michael panted, his skin flushed. Beads of sweat were forming on his chest and his vision was hazy around the edges.

"Your wish is my command." Oliver hastily removed his fingers from Michael. With a quick hand, he coated his cock in glistening pre-cum. He didn't give Michael any warning before he thrust up into the boy. Michael liked it rough.

He felt Oliver's cock hit his sweet spot in one swift thrust. His back slammed against the wall, shaking the lone picture that hung there. Again and again Oliver thrust into him before quickly pulling out, only to thrust again even harder. Soon enough Michael was crying out his name, clinging to his shoulders as Oliver continued to pound into him. Tears had gathered in the corner of his eyes as the pleasurable waves continued to sweep over him.

Loud bangs vibrated the walls as Michael's back was slammed repeatedly against the wall. Oliver's cold hand circled Michael's cock and within seconds, Michael was creaming Oliver's hand as he neared his release.

Oliver's thrusts became erratic as he neared his peak. Mumbling curses in amongst Michael's name, he came suddenly. Michael felt Oliver's freezing essence cool his insides and he came, not as quiet as Oliver, and screamed the vampire's name.

Relaxing against the wall, Michael groaned quietly as Oliver pulled away. Oliver moved them to the couch quickly, carefully setting Michael down. Michael was still trying to catch his breath and his body sunk into the couch. All his bones had gone to mush and he felt dithery and shaky. Oliver always left him like this.

They sat in silence for a while until Michael stood to grab his jeans. His shirt was history. Tugging them on, he watched Oliver did the same. "How's it going?" Michael asked, suggesting one thing only.

"Amelie doesn't trust me. She won't tell me how to turn you," sighed Oliver. "But I'll find out, if it's the last thing I do." He pulled Michael closer to him.

"I think Claire knows something," Michael said while playing with the hem of his jeans. "She's been really quiet lately."

He felt Oliver nod. "How are you? Is it getting any better?"

Michael instinctively glanced at the alarm clock. Only a few more minutes before he died, again. "It's…it's not good." He glanced out of the window and panicked when he saw the rising sun. Oliver couldn't see him like that…couldn't see him so vulnerable. "Look, you should go… Before the others wake up."

Oliver shook his head and twisted Michael in his lap. "No, I'm not leaving. The others don't wake for a couple of hours yet. You should stop lying, it doesn't suit you."

"But…but the sun," Michael fought for a good excuse. "You'll burn…"

"I'm old enough, Michael. The sun won't hurt me as it would when I was younger."

Oliver stood and allowed Michael to sprawl out on the couch. He stayed near him in case anything happened to go wrong. Perhaps he could take away the pain somehow?

Michael watched fearfully as the suns deadly ray's crept towards him. It was inevitable. He couldn't run and hide like a vampire, it would happen-

He screamed when the sun touched him.

Loud bangs ricocheted throughout the house and loud footsteps came down the stair case. Michael shook his head fearfully as he heard the footsteps coming closer. They couldn't find out. He was going to tell them…but later on…when Oliver wasn't here. They were going to find out two of Michael's biggest secrets. This wasn't going to go well.

He screamed and arched his back to try and get away from the sun. The door to the living room flew open and Shane, Claire and Eve stood in the doorway, their mouths agape. Michael could feel his eyes rolling, he tried to see anything…anyone but he couldn't focus on anyone. The pain was too much. It burned throughout his bones, turning every piece of him into smoke.

He shook his head back and forth, his eyes finally locking on Oliver's devastated expression. "Please make it stop! Please, kill me…make it stop!" he screamed, tears gathering in the corner of his eyes; this time in pain and not pleasure. Michael thrashed on the sofa and he felt his body becoming lighter. This was it, for another twelve hours at least.

And then he disappeared.

Shane glared at Oliver. "What the fuck was that all about?"


End file.
